We poets, wandered round by dreams,* who hailed From this Atrides' roof (with lintel-post Which still drips blood,-the worse part hath prevailed) What now remains for such as we, to do? God's judgments, peradventure, will He bare To the roots of thunder, if we kneel and sue? From Casa Guidi windows I looked forth, And saw ten thousand eyes of Florentines Flash back the triumph of the Lombard north,Saw fifty banners, freighted with the signs And exultations of the awakened earth, Float on above the multitude in lines, Straight to the Pitti. So, the vision went. And so, between those populous rough hands Raised in the sun, Duke Leopold outleant, And took the patriot's oath which henceforth stands Among the oaths of perjurers, eminent To catch the lightnings ripened for these lands. Why swear at all, thou false Duke Leopold? What need to swear? What need to boast thy blood Unspoilt of Austria, and thy heart unsold Away from Florence? It was understood God made thee not too vigorous or too bold; * See the opening passage of the Agamemnon of Æschylus, And men had patience with thy quiet mood, And smoke the pale Madonnas at the shrine, For men to spit at with scorn's blurring brine! Who dares forgive what none can overlook? For me, I do repent me in this dust Around us on the uneven crater-crust Of these old worlds,-I bow my soul and knee. These sceptred strangers shun the common salt, I much repent that, in this time and place Where many corpse-lights of experience burn From Cæsar's and Lorenzo's festering race, To enlighten groping reasoners, I could learn Than to put faith in princes, in my turn. Had all the death-piles of the ancient years Flared up in vain before me? knew I not What stench arises from some purple gears? And how the sceptres witness whence they got Their briar-wood, crackling through the atmosphere's Foul smoke, by princely perjuries, kept hot? Forgive me, ghosts of patriots,-Brutus, thou, Who trailest downhill into life again Thy blood-weighed cloak, to indict me with thy slow Reproachful eyes!-for being taught in vain That, while the illegitimate Cæsars show Of meaner stature than the first full strain, (Confessed incompetent to conquer Gaul) They swoon as feebly and cross Rubicons As rashly as any Julius of them all! Forgive, that I forgot the mind which runs Through absolute races, too unsceptical! I saw the man among his little sons, His lips were warm with kisses while he swore; Who felt my own child's coming life before From Casa Guidi windows I looked out, Again looked, and beheld a different sight. To all these Czars, from Paul to Paulovitch. And loudly; only, this time, as was just, Not 'Live the Duke,' who had fled for good or ill, Long live the people! How they lived! and boiled And bubbled in the cauldron of the street: How the young blustered, nor the old recoiled, And what a thunderous stir of tongues and feet Trod flat the palpitating bells and foiled. The joy-guns of their echo, shattering it! How down they pulled the Duke's arms everywhere! How up they set new café-signs, to show Where patriots might sip ices in pure air— (The fresh paint smelling somewhat)! To and fro How marched the civic guard, and stopped to stare When boys broke windows in a civic glow! How all the Circoli grew large as moons, How all the nobles fled, and would not wait, Black velvet like Italian democrats, Who slashed our sleeves like patriots, nor forswore The true republic in the form of hats? We chased the archbishop from the Duomo-door, We chalked the walls with bloody caveats Against all tyrants. If we did not fight Exactly, we fired muskets up the air To show that victory was ours of right. We met, had free discussion everywhere |